The one that smelled like lemons
Her fingers smooth
She took a breath in.
If he was more than a picture,
He would be a head,
ideas like bees
He would be legs,
running, walking, he would set the pace
He would be a stomach,
through a nose that loved the smell of lemons
He would be heart,
blood and color and warmth
He would be lips,
made to curve up and around, made to lick
He would be a hand,
A reaching out hand, a holding tight hand
Thumbs to smooth out her worry lines.
A rush of released breath.
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I want to thank my large and loving family for giving me the space and safety to let my imagination go crazy. Love creates freedom and I'm excited to use that freedom to write. I wrote this poem after seeing a picture of a friend mine who recently got married. They looked so happy and for a moment I was jealous of their love, but I knew that what I was jealous of was just a picture from my imagination. I look forward past the imagined picture to a love that's real, that sets me free.